


But This Time Slowly

by aboutbunnies



Category: Lost
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2014-05-17
Packaged: 2018-01-25 10:31:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1645478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aboutbunnies/pseuds/aboutbunnies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kate searches out someone she used to know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But This Time Slowly

When Frank lands the plane and they realize they're not exactly supposed to even _exist_ , it's Kate they all look to for direction. It's not hard to fall back on old habits, and she gets them all set up with new IDs easily enough, manages to gain access to some of the old Oceanic settlement money from before. It's a far easier role, she finds, than trying to get Claire settled with Aaron. She leaves LA as soon as she can, as soon as she thinks he'll be okay. It hurts too much to stay.

The old habits come even easier then, the leaving and the running and the never staying in one place twice. She's aimless, really. Her running isn't desperate anymore; there's no adrenaline attached to it, no danger, really, if she's caught. She does it because it's what she knows. It turns out to be a small comfort. She _wanders_.

In Houston, she uses a public library computer to look up the names of people she used to know, avoiding any name that could be attached, in any way, to Oceanic or Ajira or the island. She finds her mother's obituary and is surprised to find she can't cry, even when her hometown paper tells her Diane Janssen was survived only by a nephew. There's a small article in _Stars and Stripes_ with a quote from Sergeant Major Sam Austen about troops withdrawing from Iraq; she prints it off and folds it into a compact square, places it in her wallet behind a photo of Aaron.

She only searches a few more names. The next morning, she boards a Greyhound bound for Miami. It's the first time in months she's had a destination.

He's easy enough to find. She cases the precinct, finding herself glad her deception hadn't cost him his position in the force, and takes a couple days to memorize his schedule. On the third day, she waits at his car at the end of his shift. She watches, out of his line of sight, as he approaches, and feels it stir in her, the old longing and adoration and regret. He's still devastatingly handsome, with the same easy smile and the same casual gait. There's some gray at his temples she doesn't remember, and some new lines around his eyes – and she knows the instant he sees her, because the lines harden immediately and his relaxed smile slips away.

“Hey, Kevin,” she begins, softly, and she's surprised at how afraid she is, and not because of his uniform.

“Kate,” he returns, stiffly, and the name startles her, as does the realization that he doesn't seem surprised to see her. “Only took you two days to say something,” he continues, and she knows with a sinking in her gut that Kevin has always been smarter than she's ever given him credit for. “I was beginning to wonder.”

She pulls her wallet out of her pocket then, holding out in trembling fingers the new ID she'd made for herself. “That's not my name anymore,” she tells him, because it's still not easy to say it aloud.

He takes the card and his lips form the name but he doesn't say it aloud, either. His lips twist around the letters, familiar now against his mouth, and he looks wounded, almost angry. “Is this a joke?”

She wants to smooth the look from his face with her fingers; the urge is so strong she shoves her hands into her jeans pockets as she shakes her head. “No, Kev, it's not a joke.” She takes a breath, wavering. “I just...I wanted to see you. I wanted to know...” She looks away. Counts to five. “I'll leave if you want me to,” she finishes, quieter still.

A car drives by them and she turns her face out of habit; he's silent until they can hear it exit the parking garage. Then, “I think you should leave, Kate.” He runs a hand through his hair and it's only then she notices the gold band, still on his left ring finger.

Tears prick her eyes, surprising her with the sudden jolt of emotion. She nods and walks past him, her hand brushing his sleeve as she passes. She tells herself she shouldn't have expected more. Doesn't even know what she'd expected at all, really. She hears Edward's voice, taunting, in her head as she walks away. _If you can really stay put, really settle down, then I'll stop chasing you._

“Monica.”

She's halfway to the stairwell, and his voice echoes against the cement walls. She stops in her tracks.

\-----

It's not a cruiser but it may as well be, for as trapped as she feels in the front seat as he drives. She clenches and unclenches her hands in her lap, and every so often she glances at him, at the way his hands grip the wheel at ten and two, at the way she can see his ring glint in the sun every time he makes a turn. He says nothing.

She lets out a breath she hadn't known she was holding when the house he pulls up to is not the one they'd shared. It's smaller and duller and she's both glad and achingly sad. He waits until they're inside to touch her, and when he finally does she falls into him, muscle memory, want and need. His hands can still cover her entire face, can still comb through her hair in one pass; she moans into his neck and feels him grow hard against her thigh.

In the hallway there's pictures on the wall, Suzanne and his brothers, so she shuts her eyes with a small sob and lets him lift her, her legs around his waist. She doesn't open her eyes again until she feels a bed beneath her and Kevin's hand fumbling with her jeans. Reaching up to kiss him, she helps with her pants and then his, and he's inside her so quickly she can barely breathe.

She says his name into his ear and presses her palms against his back, the stiff cotton of his uniform shirt yielding under her fingertips. He still says nothing, won't look at her, though he touches her everywhere, places she'd forgotten she likes to be touched. She keeps saying his name, hoping for something to anchor her, keep her from coming undone completely. It's no use, though, and a press of his hips just right, a teasing of his fingers and she's lost. She feels him come just after her, a tension and trembling in his back under her hands, and he stays inside her, almost too long.

\-----

She wakes, groggy, to his hand brushing through her hair. When she opens her eyes he's sitting on the bed, dressed again in jeans and a t-shirt, hair wet from a shower. She draws in a breath to speak, wants to touch him, but when he finally looks at her she stays silent, afraid of the look in his eyes.

“I called you a cab,” he says, quiet and pained, and it's the first time he's spoken since the parking garage.

She's not surprised, but it doesn't make it easier. “I need to get dressed,” she returns, just as quiet, and he nods and leaves the room.

She finds her underwear and jeans crumpled at the foot of the bed and pulls them on, straightens her wrinkled shirt. As she walks back out into the hallway, she pulls her fingers through her hair, ties it back into a ponytail, away from her face. She can see a cab idling in the driveway, through the foyer window.

Kevin meets her at the door and pulls her to him, a long embrace, almost too tight. When he pulls away his eyes are wet and he kisses her forehead. “I loved you, Monica,” he says against her skin, and takes her hand, pressing something cool and round into her palm. She opens the door and walks out, before she can cry. _I loved you, too_ , is everything she can't say.

In the cab, she opens her hand. The gold band glints in the sun.


End file.
